


Bang Bang (He Shot Me Down)

by Sherlocked



Category: Original Work
Genre: Based off a Tiktok tag, Eve I'm so sorry, My brain doesn't like shutting up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:47:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked/pseuds/Sherlocked
Summary: A series of drabbles about Sam the Techie and the Mulroys.Based off a TikTok tag.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My brain didn't want to shut up, so...this exists. This isn't necessarily canon, as it's literally just me putting the stories my brain made up out into the world, so...yeah.
> 
> There will probs be more. I am so sorry.
> 
> Eve, I'm sorry, but also this is kinda your fault. Forgive meeeeee

It’s 0200 hours on Samantha East’s 16th birthday when she, drunk and alone in an empty foster home, hacks into the Pentagon’s database. She finds a transport jet slated for use by “UNIT” and changes the designation from ‘Sparrow’ to ‘Sam’. 

It’s the only acknowledgement she gets for her 16th, other than a distracted phone call from her social worker, and Sam takes quiet, spiteful joy in knowing that someone will care about something with her name on it.

Her foster ‘’’parents’’’ are still out doing whatever the fuck they do when not using her for brownie points with their other asshole friends a week later when two black SUVs with tinted windows roll up after school and “ask” her to accompany them.

5 hours, a plane ride, and a dark and cold interrogation room later, a contract is carefully placed in front of her and someone high enough up in UNIT that they don’t have a badge calmly explains that either she signs her life away to be the technical support for shitty James Bonds, or she gets to be tried for treason as an adult for what they refer to as her “birthday fun.”

Unsurprisingly, Sam goes for the gilded cage instead of SuperMax.

~

There is months and months of training. Some of it Sam knows already. Other stuff, not so much. She’s only slightly surprised when she’d given a security clearance and told that she graduated into full Technical Agent a year later, and decides not to ask about the kids who “washed out of the program.” 

The director of the TAs, lovingly given the nickname “Omnissiah” by their loyal subjects (because gasp, the group of teenage hackers are nerds, whoever would have guessed) gathers them up and explains to the techies that there is going to be a Company Picnic where they would get to meet the latest graduating class and start picking the agents they’d be overseeing. 

(From what Sam gathered, Head Office had realized that Techies that like their agents keep them alive longer. The fact that this was something they didn’t understand from the get surprises Sam not at all.)

The TA dorms are buzzing as they go through the files of all the agents that, officially, they’re not supposed to have, but the Omnissiah seemed to feel (and Sam thought it was fair) that if you didn’t specifically make sure the hackers couldn’t get the information in question, you wanted them to see it.

As such, Sam hears about Garren Mulroy well before she ever sees him. The other Techies tch over his file, condescending in their shock about the  _ class _ of people UNIT has working for them.

Sam glances at the photo attached to the file as tablets are passed back and forth, recognizing the sullen defiance as half the room refuses to work with him and the other wonders how hard it is to get in his pants, and near immediately forgets about him as she goes back to her book.

~

It is actually a picnic, as UNIT apparently didn’t tell the agent’s they were going to be chosen, probably due to the extremely high chances a significant chunk of their population would take it  _ badly _ . There’s hot dogs and burgers and every condiment Heinz ever produced and 100+ teenagers awkwarded at each other. 

The agents seemed to oscillate between  _ way _ too serious and dangerously defiant, with very little in between, and Sam was getting bored of it. She's forced a conversation with one of the former, and was fighting not to let her eyes roll back into her head as she listened to him  _ drone. _ ”

“The training has truly made me the man I was meant to be. I am  _ proud _ to be given this chance to serve my country in a way that’s truly  _ meaningful _ .”

(Sam notices a fellow scruffy ginger who looks just about as done with the koolaid as she is  _ actually _ rolling his eyes, and has to suppress a cackle.)

“I feel like we’re really going to make a  _ difference _ , you know? If you had asked me before training, I would  _ never  _ have been filled with so much  _ hope _ for our country. What about you?”

Scruffy Ginger Boy blinked, clearly not expecting someone to notice him.

“What?”

“Hasn’t the training made you feel reborn, in a way?”

Scruffy Ginger boy squinted, seeming to look for any sign Captain America was being sarcastic before replying,

“‘How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.’” 

And having the audacity to  _ walk away. _

“Excuse me!” Sam realized that she’d been a bit loud when half the crown turned with Scruffy, but she was too distracted by the fact that Scruffy had  _ out of pocket quoted Baudelaire  _ to give a fuck. “I didn’t catch your name.” 

His returning look was calculating.

“I didn’t throw it.”

Sam didn’t even try to hide the smirk that started forming as he walked away, not even hearing Captain America’s blustered apologies and excuses as the Omnissiah appeared at her now free side.

“That one.” The Omnissiah raised an eyebrow at her, and at Scruffy’s retreating back.

“Garren Mulroy? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

~

To his credit, he looked the least surprised out of the assembled team in their new team apartment when the coordinator introduced her as their techie, and as they start going through the more advanced group training, Sam starts to see what his file had been talking about.

He was aggressive, defiant, and mean. He gave the other teammates shit, had problems with authority, the whole nine yards, and if he weren’t  _ very _ good at the job, Sam would have wondered how he’d gotten this far. 

Garren had kept his distance from her, and the other teammates made jokes that it was due to everything from them secretly being siblings (because, of course, that’s the only way they could  _ both _ have red hair and blue eyes) to they were secretly fucking.

(Behind Garren’s back, of course, they’d never have the balls to chance incurring his wrath by saying it to his face.)

Until bomb training.

The tests were supposed to simulate field conditions, and therefore the team went out on the “mission” while the techie stayed behind in HQ to be contacted when needed. Due to this structure, Sam spent much of her time bored out of her goddamn mind because apparently Garren refused to let any of them contact her for help because he  _ was  _ going to figure it out without  _ help _ , and the lemmings let him be in charge because he faked confidence well.

(Justin, one of the other teammates who had taken the UNIT job to put his little sister through college, had tattled on him. Justin was currently in the ranking as Sam’s favorite.)

So Sam was, understandably, surprised when not only did her com click into life, but it was  _ Garren _ on the other end.

“Techie, you there?”

“Dear lord, there’s a voice on the other end of this line? I thought this was a void to scream into.” She watched the screen blink to life and a bomb appeared, numbers ticking by. “Pretty.”

“What wires do I-”

“Blue and yellow.” He paused, and Sam carefully kept her face blank as she tapped at the Candy Crush on her tablet.

“D-d’you want to spend more that 5 seconds looking at it, or-”

“I wired it, asshole, how did you think we were supposed to give advice on how to disarm it?”

“Well, I didn’t know that,  _ ass _ .” She heard the  _ snip _ of wire cutters and the answering  _ chirp _ as the bomb disarmed, and couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped. “What?”

“I was lying, I didn’t wire it.” 

“You  _ what _ ?” She could feel the team tense for his inevitable rage.

That never came.

Her giggles turned into a full on laugh as he started laughing, sounding almost startled at the sound of it.

“You  _ dick _ .”

“Hey, man, gotta keep things interesting. There’s a present inside of it, you’ll get extra credit if you bring it.” 

Sam clicked off the link, carefully keeping to her own workstation as she scrubbed the memo for the test off her computer and prepared to meet the team in cool-down. 

Their team was the only one that got the extra credit. 

Garren didn’t change much, but he did start bringing her a muffin when she skipped breakfast.

Sam considered it a win all around.

~

In the next 6 months, they’d reached a sort of equilibrium, their little team, and had gotten to be pretty effective. They worked well, and Sam was proud of the little niche she’d found, even if the rest of the team came to her for 100% of their interactions with Garren. 

And then security for a mark walked in at the wrong moment, and all hell broke loose. 

Sam was practically on autopilot, fingers moving faster than they really should be able to across the keyboard, forcing herself not to hyperventilate as she made sure there was no evidence that could lead to a diplomatic incident while she waited for the team to come back through the door.

She heard the front door open and immediately knew something was wrong from two important bthings; 1, they were all  _ way _ too quiet, and 2, there were not nearly enough footfalls.

She made herself finish, made sure all loose ends were tied up and authorities properly misdirected, before getting out and walking into the living room. 

“Where’s Garren and Justin?” There were shifting glances and guilty looks, but no answer. Sam grit her teeth, forcing her fear to turn into anger. “I’m  _ sorry, _ ” there were a few flinches as her tone hardened, “I didn’t hear an answer.”

A guilty lump at the end of the couch muttered something into his jacket, and Sam’s temper flared.

“Did you just say ‘I don’t know?’ Please tell me I heard you wrong.  _ Please _ tell me this is some shitty, shitty prank and you’re not actually being this  _ dumb. _ ”

5 minutes of Disappointed Mom bitching later, Sam finally learned what had happened.

Garren and Justin had taken point, and had been the only two who’d been seen. One or the other had taken a bullet, Garren said he had it and they’d catch up. 10 minutes passed the strict maximum 5 minute wait time, neither had appeared, though local PD had.

It took another 3 hours and Sam staring at blueprints till her eyes crossed, but she found the back staircase and the entrance to the catacombs under the ancient building. 

Sam was also, as the only one who hadn’t been in the building and therefore impossible to recognize, the one who found Garren curled up in one corner, blank and distant, and Justin’s body, cold and unmoving, in the other. She’d helped him into the change of clothes, taken Justin’s tags, scheduled the clean up, and got everyone on the plane home.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if everyone didn’t tiptoe around their group like they might explode at any moment. If they hadn’t emailed the retrieval report to the whole team. If they didn’t have them record their post-mission report so soon. 

Sam was sitting, staring at her laptop, when the  _ thud _ echoed through the apartment, followed by yelling. 

Garren yelling.

Garren had Rameriez pinned to the wall, which would have been more impressive if Garren wasn’t screaming bloody murder and holding him up by his collar, and Rameriez wasn’t rapidly turning purple. If the rest of the team was proving pretty much useless against him.

If Sam didn’t recognize that face from a hundred foster kids getting to CPS processing for the first time. 

“ _ Garren _ .”

She doesn’t know what about her tone got through, but he stopped, his gaze snapping to her. She pointed into her room, and he dropped Rameriez, the rest of the team swarming to help the other man as Garren barged into her room.

Sam barely let the door click shut before she lets all of her pent up... _ everything _ come rushing out, pointed at him.

“What the  _ fuck _ is your problem?”

“He was fucking with me.”

“Was he? Or was he just convenient?”

“Does it matter?”

“It’ll matter when the rest of the goddamn team  _ completely _ doesn’t trust you ‘cause you’re just as likely to take one of them out as the fucking mark.” 

“And? It’s not like I  _ need _ them, I don’t need  _ any  _ of this bullshit to do this job.”

“What about having people care are you so  _ fucking  _ scared of?” She hadn’t been thinking about it, but it comes out of her mouth, and the way Garren froze suggests that isn’t far from the actual problem.

“What.” His voice is suddenly a low growl, and Sam’s every instinct was telling her that maybe locking him in the room with her hadn’t been the best idea, but she ignored it.

“What about having people support you and give a shit about you and your wellbeing scares you so goddamn much, Garren?”

She felt the fight drain out of her, and saw it drain out of him too, watched him crumple into himself like wet paper. The pause was long, and when he finally answered, his voice was small and tired.

“I lived.”

“Yeah.” The next pause was longer. 

“I watched him die. I held his hand. If I had been two inches to the left, I would have been shot, too.” His hand twitched and he shoved his hands into his armpits. 

“Okay.”

“Why wasn’t it me? Why was-” He cut himself off, suddenly getting stiff and angry again. “This is fucking stupid.”

“What? That you’re a mere human being like the rest of us and you have  _ feelings _ ? How dare.” He sneered at her, and she rolled her eyes back. “We’re not going anywhere, Garren.  _ I’m _ not going anywhere. If you want to talk about your feelings, I can pretend to be deaf or get selective amnesia or fucking  _ whatever _ . But you surviving isn’t why Justin’s dead. And guilt is normal.” She snorted, the noise surprising both of them. “Fuck, dude, we kill people. On a regular basis, for the US Government and/or the highest bidder. I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t feel at least a little guilty that people are dying and I have a peripheral involvement in it, even if it’s just as a complicated murder weapon.”

Garren stared at her for a solid 15 seconds before he just left, and Sam didn’t have the energy to do anything but let him.

~

Garren was just...gone, for a bit. After apologizing to Rameriez, he’d apparently walked out the door and was nowhere to be found. The rest of the team was  _ extremely _ worried, especially since he apologized, and Sam spent most of her time making excuses for why they weren’t currently taking jobs and talking the rest of the team down from starting a manhunt. 

It didn’t help the rumors, she supposed, that when he reappeared it was with her Starbucks order and a handful of gift cards (that were very obviously picked out by some poor Walgreens employee who was asked what to get the girl you just had a fight with) but Sam decided to throw him a bone and act as if nothing had happened.

And if Garren took to burying himself in the pillow nest in the corner of her room and talking into a stuffie while she worked, well, she and Lord Sharky wouldn’t tell anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

Base had been raided during a job, and Sam had gotten shot.

That was what Cecelia had been told, and while she did try not to speak on things that she didn't know about, that wasn't a fun one to have come home to her. Garren had that blank look he got when he was trying not to show that he had emotions, and Sam looked extremely tired despite loosing none of her normal attitude, her flannel half buttoned to hide the fact that her tshirt had transformed into a crop top.

She had noticed fairly early on that Sam and Garren seemed to gravitate towards each other if one or the other got injured, after the initial round of anger that the other had gotten hurt and there wasn't anything the other could have done about it. It was sweet, really, how protective they were of each other.

Cecelia just wished they didn't have to be.

She walked back out of the kitchen into the living room to find Sam quietly snoring, her head in Garren's lap. He seemed like he had zoned out, fingers fidgeting with Sam's curls, until Cecelia walked into the room. Garren smiled, making the effort, as Cecelia handed him a glass of water, setting the one for Sam on the coffee table.

"How're you holding up, babe?"

She could see his automatic "Fine" start to appear, and he seemed to pause, considering the woman who was functionally his sister before looking back up at his wife. 

"I'll be fine, it's just going...it's goiing to be difficult. But I'll be fine."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"A organization that had nothing to do with the job had been staking out the safe house so they could raid it and force the techie to give them UNIT intel. Sam was..." A ghost of a smile crossed Garren's face. "More trouble than they were really prepared for. When we got back, one of them seemed to think that shooting her would be enough distraction for her to get away."

"I assume he was proven wrong?"

"With a prejudice."

"Y'know, it's stuff like this that reminds me that your job is dangerous. Are you really going to be okay?" Garren held out a hand, and she took it, smiling as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Of course I'll be fine. Don't you know? Danger is my middle name." Garren smirked, and Cecelia giggled.

"No's not." Both looked down at Sam, who looked half asleep and amused. "Your middle name is _cutie pie._ "

Garren's smirk turned into a full grin, and Cecelia laughed, hard.

"Sam, have I mentioned you're my favorite?"

"I can stand to hear it more."

"Go back to sleep, techie."

"Sir, yes sir."

"Wait, Sam, would you like to sleep in a real bed considering, you know, you got shot?" There was a pause and Sam squinted up at her.

"That's probably a good idea, isn't it."

~

Garren had gone back to HQ to explain exactly why he was not reentering his team into the field without _his_ techie, and Cecelia took advantage of the time off she never used to stay with Sam. It wasn't like she knew what to do if anything went wrong, but Garren had kissed her and reassured her that it was a lot easier than it looked and she'd be great at it.

That didn't reassure her when Sam came down and, bashful, asked for help changing her dressing, and Cece saw the actual wound for the first time. Sam noticed her noticing and winced.

"Youuuuu haven't seen a gunshot yet. Fuck, sorry."

"No, it's fine, I just...I thought it would be smaller."

"Well, it was, except they had to cut me open because the bullet disappeared somewhere and they wanted to find it before it did terrible things to my insides." 

"What had happened to it?"

"It was a through and through."

"You're lucky it didn't hit anything too important."

"Very. So the incision site is bigger to accommodate that." Sam cocked her head. "Would you like post-op bullet wound care 101?"

"Are you sure you should be standing that long?" Sam waved away Cece's concerns.

"It'll be a practical learning experience."

"You're so strange."

"It runs in the family."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a summer party. Mason, Peter, and Olivia were tearing around after each other in the back yard with super soakers, the only thing separating it from something normal was how all of them were using actual battle tactics. Randall and Garren sat on the porch in companionable silence, the lemonade sitting on the table between them a vague attempt to pretend they weren't out there to make sure no one got hurt. There was the sound of Project Runway on the TV filtering in from the living room as V and Alfred watched it, redirecting all their salt back at the TV instead of each other. Sam And Cecelia watched the yard through the kitchen window.

Cecelia appraised Randall, and could admit she could see where Sam was coming from. He was fairly attractive, built, and had entered her home with cookies and calling her "ma'am" in an adorable Midwestern accent. Too tall for her personal tastes, but Sam seemed to be attracted to some of the same traits as her brother, a height difference being an important one. She cocked her head as Randall stretched to cover the leg he stuck out, catching Mason by the ankle. The other man turned the fall into a roll, but it left enough of an opening that Peter and Olivia got an advantage. Randall looked over his shoulder and looked at Sam, not seeming to notice Cece much at all, and winked, earning an eyeroll for Sam in response. His grin turned boyish and proud of himself as he turned back around, and Cecelia watched as Sam melted onto her counter top.

"Damn."

"Fuck _off,_ I know." Sam's replies were muffled by her forearms. "I'm- I already barely have any idea with how to deal with it, leave me aloneeee."

"I can see it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Not my type, but I can see it." There was a pause as Cece chose her words carefully. "He certainly looks like he could push you around."

"Yeah." Sam had almost recovered, but at that she rubbed the side of her neck, grinning. "He also apparently finds it entertaining that I can reciprocate."

Cecelia nodded, reassured mostly by the fact that Sam was. This was definitely not her wheelhouse, in the slightest, but if Sam was happy...

"And you really can't tell-"

"I said I wouldn't."

"But you trust me?" Sam rolled her eyes.

"Duh, Cece, I trust you with _Garren_." That...probably shouldn't have made Cecelia feel so happy.

"Fair. We should start baking soon." Sam nodded.

"Cece?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we make lemon meringue?" Cecelia caught the glance toward the window.

"Yeah, I think we have everything for that. You good with that one?"

"Yeah, I think I got it."

~

Dinner was served, buffet style in the kitchen for everyone to disperse and eat where they pleased, and Cecelia may or may not have made sure to be there for Randall to see Sam's pie. He lit up, making sure there was room on his plate for it.

"Like lemon meringue?"

"I love it, Mrs G, I just wasn't expecting it; Garren said there was going to be cake, he didn't mention _pie_."

"Oh, the pie was a last minute addition. Sam suggested it." Cecelia pretended not to notice how he froze for a half second too long.

"Really? I didn't know Sam could bake."

"According to her, it's good for her to remember how to create things that aren't made of metal. She's quite good at it, too; you just have to make sure you have everything she'll need before you get the idea in her head, because she can be a terror at grocery stores." Cecelia continued to not notice the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth, and if she didn't know better, she'd say the expression on his face wasn't entirely due to the pie.

"Good to know. Thanks again, Mrs G."

"No problem, Randall." Cecelia took her own plate and sat on the couch between her husband and her kids, and if Sam and Randall ate on the back porch alone, well. That wasn't any of her business, now was it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam wasn’t going to pretend she wasn’t in a mood, and Alfie and V were both smart enough to leave her alone on the roof of the safe house as she glared at her phone. 

Garren’s self preservation instincts, on the other hand, left many things to be desired. 

She grit her teeth as he climbed onto the roof, sliding the window mostly closed behind him.

“And _you_ give _me_ shit about brooding.” 

"Fuck off, Gare."

"Not until you tell me what your me impression is about."

"I wanna be _just like you_ when I grow up."

"Sam..."

"No, honestly! Every night I lay in bed and pray to my demonic patron that one day I will be-"

"Samael." She stopped, finally looking at Garren. He raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?" She huffed out a sigh, defensive posturing melting into defeat.

"I'm being stupid, it's not important."

"If it's bothering you, it's important." She rolled her eyes, but let herself fall sideways, begrudgingly pillowing her head in his lap. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he idly started playing with her hair. "Computer stuff?"

"No."

"Alfie say something stupid?"

"When does he _not_."

"Brute?" She didn't bother to hide the way the muscle in her jaw twitched from him, which Garren took as a win; it meant she was actually willing to talk about it. "I thought you said there wouldn't be any more fraternizing."

"There isn't. It's against _protocol_." She said it like it was a four letter word, and he blinked down, slightly surprised.

"I only meant during a job, Sam-" She waved his response away, obviously annoyed.

"I'm not bothered by _you_ , Gare." He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment before his brain recognized the emotions on Sam's face. Annoyance, obviously, but also...hurt.

"Wait, he-"

" _Yep._ " She popped her p obnoxiously, still not quite looking at him. "It's not like I don't get it, UNIT bullshit being what it is, but he could at least _pretend_ that he cared more about me than-" She cut herself off, pushing her glasses out of the way to rub her eyes. "That's not fair."

"Oh?" He pulled one of her curls straight, watching it bounce back as he idly contemplated having a Talk with Brute. She squinted up at him, as much in suspicion as due to the fact she was practically blind without her glasses. 

"No."

"I didn't say anything."

"Don't _even_ , I recognize the beginnings of a Gare Bear Glare when I see one."

"I still don't forgive you for teaching that to my wife. Stop trying to change the subject." She huffed and looked back over the glittering skyline. 

"He's too... _good_. He doesn't like not following the rules. And my existence in his life kinda breaks a lot of them." Sam shook her head, annoyance winning. "Like I said, I'm being stupid."

"A remarkably smart woman once told me that feelings aren't stupid, and they happen for a reason." She squinted up at him, and Garren put on his best innocent face. "She also said that if you like someone, the bullshit that you have to slog through to be with them is worth it."

"Don't think the fact that you paraphrasing me telling you to suck it up and ask Cece to move in with you will distract me from the fact that that sounded an awful lot like _permission,_ Gare." He hummed, looking out at the city.

"Don't know what you're talking about. I will deny it to my dying day." He twirled her hair around his finger, leaning back against the roof and schooling his face neutral. "I hear Alpha 12 is in town with Fold support." 

"Yeah, they are." Her voice was heavy with suspicion, and Garren fought to keep the smile off his face. 

"I heard they were having technical issues." The pause was long and heavy with implications, and he could hear the grin in Sam's voice when she responded.

"Oh, _really_." 

"Yep. We should be done with this job by tomorrow, would you be opening to heading over to support? I'm sure Davis wouldn't mind the help."

"Sure." She sounded amused as she started playing with his jacket. "I think I'll manage to muddle through."

"I'll let him know."

~

Alpha 12 got back to HQ for debriefing a week later, and Sam appeared at Garren's side as he walked through the halls, in a noticeably better mood.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah, worked some stuff out." He rolled his eyes, turning down the hall and squinting after two _excessively_ tall men.

"Good, there's only enough room for one brooding asshole on this team." He raised his voice, not wanting to have to run, "Brute! Carver!" The men turned, and Garren pretended not to notice how both of them stared at Sam for just a moment too long as they walked up

"Mulroy. Sam." She waved distractedly from her phone, and Brute smiled at Garren. "What can we do for you two?"

"My wife has decided she wants to feed people from work, because apparently what our house _really_ needs are more strays."

"Technically your fault."

"Didn't ask you, Sam. _Anyway_ , she heard about you two and wanted me to invite you both over next weekend for a barbeque thing. Fair warning, my children take play fighting _very_ seriously."

"I'm down!" Carver grinned over at Sam. "You gonna be there?"

"I was informed this was happening when Cece called to tell me I would be helping her cook, so probably, yeah. Alfie and V, too."

"Sounds like fun." Brute cocked his head slightly. "Should we bring anything?" 

"Your charming personalities and enough energy to outrun small children for extended periods of time. Sam will send you the address." He waved and turned, Sam following behind him as he lead the way back towards his office.

"Administering the Cece test so soon?"

"No idea what you mean, I just want someone to exercise the kids."


	5. Chapter 5

**90s**

For three consecutive years in the mid 90s, UNIT's Technical Division ran a Secret Admirer exchange for Valentine's Day. It was meant to be in the same vein as Secret Santa, but more heavily encoded, given UNIT's many fraternization policies and the many, many anger management and attachment issues UNIT agents were generally a host to. It was discontinued when UNIT could no longer ignore the connected body count.

Before it did, however, Mulroy's team was secretly admired by many. Both Sam and Garren gave their letters to Alfie, who did dramatic readings of them in the common room of the squad dorms, methodically burning them as he finished them to the amusement of many.

Except for one. 

Sam didn't know why she picked it up out of the pile and opened it. It was less...gaudy than the other ones, less attention grabbing, which ironically made it stand out more. Her name was in neat script on the front, nothing special as she opened the envelope and started reading it.

She didn't notice that the readings had started up again, that Alfie was serenading Garren next to her, that Garren was doing his best poker face (which meant he was about 5 seconds from cackling and working _very_ hard not to let Alfie know he'd succeeded in making him laugh). She didn't notice it was her turn till Alfie tried to take the letter out of her hand and she caught his arm and twisted it. Alfie's answering squeak of pain was _super_ manly.

"No?"

"No." She carefully retrieved the letter off the ground, sticking it in her hoodie before handing him a neon pink atrocity with sparkly purple calligraphy. "This one."

Alfie took it, distracting from the sudden change of mood easily as he started reading the... _graphic_ content of the letter she'd handed him, ignoring Garren's curious glance as she laughed at Alfie's performance.

-

"What was in that letter?"

It was dinner in their dorm, the three of them digging into Chinese takeout in front of the tv. Alfie was curled up in on himself with his wonton soup in the armchair and leaving the couch to Sam and Garren. She didn't look away from the tv, heavily distracted by her dumplings.

"Hmmm?" She could _feel_ Garren roll his eyes at her.

"The letter, from the reading."

"The one you almost broke my hand over."

"I did _not._ "

"You _did-_ "

" _Anyway_ _,_ " Garren glared at Alfie, who huffed and started muttering into his wonton, "You were kinda aggressive about keeping the letter from Alfie."

"Probably."

" _Sam_."

"Yes, Gare-bear?" She fluttered her lashes innocently as Garren ground his teeth, Alfie badly hiding his laughter in a cough. 

"Sam, before Medical comes to yell at us about the state of his enamel again."

"Fine! _Fine_. It's not that big a deal, I just...I just liked it."

The pause was slightly stunned and a bit too long, and Sam regretted giving in immediately.

"You...you liked it."

"Yes."

"A Valentine's Day letter from someone who didn't have the balls to give it to you themself?"

"Yes."

"You _hate_ that shit, Sam."

"Wow, no fuckin' shit, Alfie, do I?" He put his hands up defensively, Garren coming in to deflect.

"Yeah, you do, Sam. You hate it when people are anything less than 100% clear and upfront about this kinda shit, which makes you liking an anonymous love letter _really fucking weird_."

"It's- fucking- it's _whatever_ , Gare, it's not that big a deal. It was- It was sweet."

"Sweet?" Garren sounded like he was trying not to laugh, and Sam felt weirdly defensive, clicking the takeout container shut and dropping it on the table as she got up.

"Fuck both of you."

"No, Sam, c'mon-"

"Sam, don't be like that-"

"No, _actually_ fuck both of you." She turned to glare at them from the door of her room. "You have both seen the entitled, creepy, fetishizing stuff I've gotten out of this godforsaken social experiment of Simmon's. It's fucking gross, and I hate it. So you'll excuse me if, when I run across one that is sweet, reads like they see me as an actual human being, and doesn't try to get me to look for them or make it my fault that they have a thing for me or describe in explicit detail how they'd fuck me, I _actually_ like it. Maybe it's nice to be seen as something other than a techie or a set of tits for _once_."

The door slam wasn't necessary, but it definitely made her feel better.

-

The knock on her door was muffled from under the pile of stuffed animals, and she felt rather than saw Garren and Alfie come in, sitting on either side of her hiding spot.

"Sam?" She didn't respond, choosing instead to watch Garren get awkward. "We're... we're sorry. Um."

"I guess we didn't realize how much it bothered you. You always seemed so blase about it." The silence dragged on, and Alfie looked nervously at Garren, who shrugged.

“What makes it different?”

“They...they like me.” The two men looked at each other, obviously lost, and Sam rolled her eyes.

“We like you, Sam.”

“Yeah, we do. Did- do you think we don’t?” Oh, Alfie was trying so hard. They both were.

“You like me, Garren, but do you like me enough to write a paragraph just about the color of my eyes and what they look like when I’m focused on something?”

“I- no?”

“Do you like me in a way that would get you to write _multiple_ pages about how hearing my laugh across the cafeteria makes your heart skip a beat, Alfie?”

“...No?”

“Would either of you write a dissertation about all the things you like about me and then end it explaining that you realize you haven’t actually spent time with me, and you know the Sam you love is the one in your head, but you thought I deserved to hear about all the wonderful things about me anyway? That all you want is just for me to smile because of something you did?” She finally looked up, and burst out laughing at the confused expressions on both of their faces. “No, you wouldn’t. But they did. And it’s...it’s different. And it’s nice. And I like it.”

"It seems kinda..." Garren was obviously looking for a diplomatic approach, but gave up on it quickly. "Stalkery?"

"I see why you're saying that? But like, stalkery implies intent, or comes with demands, and this...doesn't."

"Are you going to go looking for them?"

"I'm...no."

"Why not?"

"I thought you said-"

"I did."

"Sam, you are-"

"Shut the fuck up, please and thank you, I don't have the energy to have this argument with you."

"Does that- does that mean I can leave now?"

"Yes, Alfie, it does."

"Oh, thank _god_." She huffed out a laugh as he scrambled up, backing towards the door. "You know I love you, Sam, but this- I- no." The door closed behind him with a click and Sam turned her attention to Garren.

"Not having that argument with you, either."

"That's fair. Some of the Fold guys were going to meet up to train, they said you could come if you wanted." 

"I don't feel like being used to wipe the training room floor clean, but thanks anyway." 

"I think you could hold your own."

"Flattery gets you everywhere, Garebear, but I'm good. I think I'm just gonna work on some stuff tonight."

Valentine's Day fucking _sucked._

* * *

**90s**

Randall was having a Day. 

He didn't know why he let Mason convince him to write a letter to "That chick you have a crush on, just get it out of your system" when they were drunk the night before. He didn't know why he didn't stop after it turned into a detailed play-by-play of how _amazing_ Sam East was. He _definitely_ didn't know what demon of alcohol possessed him to actually give it in the the techie doing the last minute rounds for cards, but he _did_ have the sneaking suspicion that the feeling in the pit of his stomach was not from any hangover.

And it didn't help that, when they rolled out for training, Mason informed him that Mulroy had asked if East could come along, and Mason had just said _yes_ like that wasn't the worst possible way today could go. Not that the big guy knew any better, but it was the _principal_ of the thing.

So he wasn't sure why he was a disappointed when Mulroy came by himself. Randall waved him over as he finished tying his boots. And the pit _didn't_ drop out of his stomach when Mulroy explained that the reason East wasn't joining them was, "One of those stupid Secret Admirer cards got under her skin." He wasn't bothered at _all_. Nor was he worried about the mental wellbeing of a girl he'd barely managed to string a coherent sentence towards. He didn't for a _moment_ consider asking if there was anything he could do to help.

Out of all the holidays, Valentine's Day was his _least_ favorite.

* * *

**00s**

"Y'know, this shit didn't happen before Garren retired." Sam glanced around the corner down a seemingly empty hallway. "Clear." Randall came up behind her, the two of them silently moving down the hallway to an office door at the end of it, starting to open it when-

"Agent Brute? Agent East!"

"Fuckfuckfuck-" Sam threw the door open and flew into the room, Randall closing the door behind them and throwing the lock shut. Muffled knocking came from the other side of the steel reinforced door as she scrubbed at her face, walking to her desk. "It is 10am. It's too goddamn early to be dealing with thirsty children. Who authorized Secret Admirers being started up again?"

"Saint, I think. She said it would be good for morale."

"Yeah, hers, she loves watching people chase each other down. I bet this is her birthday present to herself."

"Her birthday's around Valentine's Day?"

"Her birthday _is_ Valentine's Day."

"That...honestly, that explains a couple things."

"Doesn't it _just_." She sat heavily in her chair with a sigh, raising an eyebrow at him as he sat across from her. "Did you ever get into the Secret Admirer stuff?"

"I- no, not really. It was all just, y'know- weird."

"Same. Mine got sacrificed to Alfie, he would do dramatic readings of the short ones and burn the rest." She didn't miss the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. Interesting.

"I didn't get that many, and I just kinda...threw them away. The whole thing felt weird." 

"You didn't read any of them? That's weird."

"You gave them to Alfie to be ridiculed and burned, and me tossing them is weird? _You_ didn't read any of them."

"Point of order, I read one of them."

"Only one?"

"Yeah." 

"Why?"

"Cause it was written by someone who actually seemed to like me, even if it was from a distance." She leaned over to start rifling through her desk, pretending not to see how he froze for half a second too long.

God, he was adorable when he blushed.

"Y-yeah?"

"Mmhmm. It was super fucking soft and sweet." She pulled out the perfectly preserved envelope, straightening as she waved it idly. "Y'know, your handwriting hasn't changed much in the last decade."

Randall looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as his face started turning pink.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Let's just say, I realized why the way you talked about me sounded familiar after a while." He looked up, bashful, and Sam fought _hard_ not to swoon.

"You kept it?"

"Obviously." He raised an eyebrow at her, and she rolled her eyes. "It was possibly the most romantic bullshit that had ever happened to me, and it was sickeningly sweet. I just kinda...never got rid of it."

"Why didn't- I mean-"

"Why didn't I go looking for you?"

"Yeah. I mean, you didn't have to, and it's not like I was expecting you to, but-"

"Puppy." He cut himself off and she sighed. "Because you said it yourself. You didn't know me, then. You were writing that letter to the Sam in your head. And I didn't want to compete with her. Couldn't really. She would have won every time."

"Sam, no. No, she would not."

"You're biased." 

Randall moved around the table, sitting on her desk as he caught her face in his hands and kissed her.

"Remember Serbia?"

"How was I supposed to forget it?"

"Do you know when I knew I was _fucked_ and there was no coming back?"

"About the time we hit the hotel and we, y'know, fucked?" He rolled his eyes at her grin, smiling.

"No, smartass. At dinner, you were smiling _at_ me. For the first time. A smile I had be dreaming about, literally, for years. And this image of you that I had built up in my head of you, that I reminded myself all the time was not who you were, but just my infatuation, was real! You actually _were_ as kind, and fiery, and pleasant as I had imagined. And that smile that 2, maybe 3 people got to see, was directed at _me_." He huffed out a breath, grinning. "And then you kissed me. And I was done for."

" _You_ kissed _me,_ puppy." She was trying not to melt, but knew it was a lost cause as she smiled like a dumbass. "I wouldn't mind a reenactment, honestly."

"You doing anything for Valentine's Day?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Now you are. We're getting Italian."

Valentine's Day? Not that bad, all things considered.


	6. Chapter 6

Hannah woke up in pain. Every joint ached as she hung from the ceiling, her clothes soaking wet and freezing against her skin. The fabric over her eyes cut into her face, and she choked out a sob, tugging uselessly as she heard chains rattle above her. It took a moment for training to kick in through the terror.

She couldn’t remember how she was taken, but the almost burning warmth at the back of her head suggested a concussion. All of her weapons were gone. Her feet weren’t touching the floor, and between that and the way she swung from the chains, getting a hold on her kidnapper would be bordering on impossible. Who’d she pissed off that badly-

Oh. Oh,  _ no. _

She registered the footsteps coming from behind her just too late, and the blindfold was yanked off. Hannah looked over her shoulder to watch as Samantha East circled around her, smiling bemusedly as she held the blind fold up.

"Doesn't this bring back fond memories?"

"You psychopathic _bitch_ -"

"Did I _say_ you could talk, Field?" It had been literal decades since East had last used that tone on her, but the woman trained her subs well, and Hannah cut off before she could even think about the action, words sticking in her throat as East came to a stop in front of her, dropping the blindfold as she smirked. "Good _girl_." 

East turned to a trunk on the floor, UNIT standard issue cleanup kit, and kicked it open, pulling out one of the clean up crew's standard jumpsuits and wiggling it on over her clothing.

"Now, I bet you're wondering why I've brought you here today." East grinned up at her, amused, and Hannah grit her teeth against the urge to play along and fall into the bitch's little mind games, knowing all too well that she'd start forgetting where she was and how she got here. 

"I warned someone about you, and you're making me go away." East laughed, cheery.

"Oh, honey, _no._ " She zipped up the jumpsuit with a hum and pulled a Monster out of the case, cracking it open with a hiss. "No, honeybuns, I honestly couldn't care less about all the shit you talk about me, I really don't. Not only does it keep you out on the carrier and out of my way, but it's hilarious convincing people that _Agent Field must have gotten it wrong_ or _people change in 20 years_ , and watching them decide to trust me even though we both know you're right." She sipped her drink and sighed happily. "I appreciate it, honestly, I love watching them lie to themselves so they can excuse liking me. No, I'm here because you upset Agent Brute."

Hannah blinked. That...was not what she was expecting.

"Excuse me?"

"See, amongst other things, you are between 8 and 28 years too late to save Agent Brute from me, depending on if you're counting from when he caught feelings or from when we became a thing," Hannah's blood ran cold, and she could tell she went pale from the sharp edge Sam's smile took, "But that wasn't what bothered me, babygirl. No, it was when he came from your little meeting upset because he didn't like that you didn't like me so much."

"He _what_."

"Randall Brute didn't care about anything you told him, just that you don't like me. He even admitted that what you said was true, but that it wasn't _nearly_ as big a deal as you thought it was. No, he just cared that you're so _misguided_ that you might try to hurt me for things that he's decided are ultimately your fault."

A million things ran through Hannah's head, all clamouring for attention, but one stood out, and she held onto it. It was how she'd escaped East the first time, a giant orgy and a slander session so big Sam couldn't distract her into being manipulated to do whatever the bitch wanted. Hopefully, it'd be enough to save her now.

"Why are you telling me this?" East's smile grew into a proud grin, finally getting the question she wanted, and Hannah's stomach somehow sunk further.

"Because you're right, Hannah. You're going to go missing. Leanansidhe, the hacker you've been tracking for the burough? Is going to make some suspicious posts on the dark web to trade UNIT secrets you had on you when you disappeared - which, bad form, that goes against company policy, tsk tsk - and UNIT will write out off as Missing, Presumed Dead. Your lovely fiance will get your severance package and live happily ever after, all the better without you. And before I kill you, I am going to hurt you very, _very_ badly; think of it as interest on all the defemation. But none of that is what is going to hurt most, babygirl. You know what is?"

Hannah had started crying at some point, she wasn't sure when, and she was reminded as she made eye contact with her practically gleeful ex girlfriend why she'd run so hard to begin with. East wasn't _human_.

"What." Her voice was a hiss as East sauntered up to her, hips swinging more than they really needed to. "What could possibly make this worse?"

"Randall Brute is a Paladin, all Lawful Good and love thy neighbor. I have told him _exactly_ who I am and you know what he did?" East _giggled_ , a noise Hanna had never heard before and, if she was lucky, she'd never hear again. "He has decided I am a good person. He wants to _marry me._ He put some poor transfer in traction for talking about my ass. 300 pounds of almost 7 feet of Fold Agent decided he was going to willingly be my puppy, and you know what you proved?" East leaned in, something slightly feral behind her eyes as Hannah's widened. "You proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's _mine_ , and no one can save him from me. Cause if you can't, who could?"

"No-" Hannah's protest was cut off by a scream as East's hand came out of nowhere and shoved a bowie knife into her stomach.

* * *

Justine Price was not expecting the knock on her door, but went to open it, her cat running along beside her excitedly. She looked down, her smile sad around the edges knowing that they both wanted Hannah to be behind the door.

Instead there was a ginger woman in a pants suit who smiled as she opened the door, a giant of a man in a suit standing behind her.

"Hello?"

"Hi, My name is Agent Samantha East, and this is Agent Randall Brute."

"We've been sent from UNIT regarding your fiance, I'm sorry, is this a good time?" They looked apologetic, at least, and Justine tried to smile around the way her stomach started twisting into knots.

"I'm- no, this is as good a time as any, please come in." They nodded and walked in, following to the living room. Agent East sat in the armchair as Agent Brute stood behind her, and Justine pulled Bast into her lap as she tried not to think about how that was _Hannah's_ chair as the other woman sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ms Price, there really is no good way to say this. Agent Field has been missing for 3 months now, and UNIT has come into possession of some information that suggests that she...may no longer be with us. UNIT will continue to look for Agent Field in hopes of recovering her safe and sound, but policy states that she will now be officially designated as Missing, Presumed Dead. As such, you will receive all standard UNIT benefits, as outlined here." Agent East held up a thick binder, and Justine took it, staring at it blankly. "Um. Agent Field had special permissions to use home devices for work purposes, could you direct me to them so I can clear any sensitive data and we can be out of your hair?"

"All of that would be in her study. Down the hall, second door on the right. The door should be locked, she didn't let anyone in there."

"Thank you, ma'am." Agent East got up and disappeared down the hall, and after a long moment of staring blankly at the binder as Justine pretended to not know what it meant, her still steaming mug of forgotten tea was placed between her and the tome, Agent Brute smiling reassuringly as he held it out to her, hunkering down to her height.

"Don't worry, ma'am. This is standard procedure. Agent East herself has been looking for Agent Field, and if anyone can do it, East can." Justine clutched at both the mug and the information with the same amount of desperation.

"Really?"

"Oh, absolutely. Agent East is the best we've got."

They were there for about an hour, Brute making distracting small talk, before East emerged and they said their goodbyes, and Justine watched them get into the pickup truck and drive away with the barest flicker of hope.

* * *

Sam waited till they couldn't see the house before she curled up in her seat, pulling the clip out of her hair so she could bury her hands in it.

"Ugh, that was _excruciating_." Randall reached across the car and caught her hand, squeezing it.

"I know, baby, but it needed to be done. And I think Justine needed to hear that there was still a chance."

"A vanishingly slim one, which is bullshit, I should have found _something_ by now-" She cut herself off and squeezed his hand back. "I'm sorry. This is just...a lot."

"But you're doing right by her." Sam smiled, one of the first genuine smiles since news about Hannah had gotten to them.

"No, I'm just giving her her due."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write a fucking soulmates AU for my OC and her SO? Yes, because I have lost control of my life and this ship has my heart. This is the soulmate au where you feel your soulmates emotions/pain.

Randall Brute was never not aware of his soulmate. According to his mother, in one of her more lucid moments between highs, that was good, because that meant they were about the same age. He always felt them in the back of his head, though he could never tell who the feeling of being scared and alone was coming from.

Maybe it was both.

(Samael is raised being told she's the Antichrist, her mother taking 6 years of watching her baby get abused before it clicked that maybe a cult isn't the best place to raise a child. The only time she ever feels happiness is through her Bond.)

The foster system isn't kind to a large boy, who quickly towers over the foster parents. The more cowardly caretakers take it out on him, and he takes the punishment quietly, consoling himself that at least if it's being focused on him, the other kids aren't getting hurt. He only second guesses letting himself get hurt when he feels the flashes of worry come across his bond.

(The foster system isn't kind to a smart girl, who quickly outstrips her peers. She mostly avoids physical punishment, but her soulmate doesn't, and she can't help but worry that, if they keep getting hurt, she might never meet them.)

The Friesens are the first time Randall feels accepted and happy, farm work easy and mindless and his foster parents caring. It lasts for almost 2 years till Mr and Mrs Friesen die in a car crash.

(She wakes up in the middle of the night with a scream, her soulmate's pain and anger searing and all she wants to do is hug them and tell them everything is alright. She finds the IT club while looking for an empty classroom to nap in while she hides from cheerleading practice.)

UNIT finds him, angry and hurting, and takes him in, giving him a place to belong, where being bigger isn't a bad thing, and doesn't set him apart nearly as much. He avoids people like Mulroy, a tiny ball of rage, because his soulmate has started doing some kind of physical activity, and he knows because muscles he definitely doesn't work out are sore when he wakes up in the morning. He can't keep them from getting hurt because of him, but he can get good at avoiding it. 

The fact that he takes care of himself and takes the time to make smart decisions puts him at the top of his class.

(The fact that her soulmate is doing really well is really the only thing that keeps Sam going for a few years, even when shitty foster parents are replaced with an even shittier UNIT.)

He sees Her at graduation.

The tactical agents and the technical agents who have earned the title are set to mingle, to network and form groups. And, in fairness to Randall, there aren't a lot of female tachies in his year, and fraternization is expressly forbidden...even if it feels like he's the only one who follows that rule.

But he hears someone call out Mulroy, and he turns to watch the show, and sees... _her_.

She looks tired, and she's wearing clothing he could easily fit that she practically disappears into, but she's _super_ pretty, and she smirks at Mulroy's apathetic answer and Randall can _feel_ his heart stutter, and that...that's a problem.

(Her soulmate has been getting weird fluttery feelings, and Sam knows for a fact it isn't hers because the only person it _could_ be for is Garren Mulroy and...ew. No. She hopes they're happy, wherever they are. She hopes, if they meet, it doesn't ruin their feelings for this other person.)

Randall's soulmate is horny all the _fucking_ time, pun intended. It doesn't help that whoever they are, where ever they are, they're regularly getting laid while he is _really_ not. However, it does make his self control improve by leaps and bounds ahead of his peers, because if he can keep his cool on a mission and make a near impossible shot while his soulmate is being... _distracting_ , he can do pretty much anything. He makes Fold in no time, distinguished as one of the top agents in UNIT, and can't help but hope his soulmate would be proud of him.

(She gets into the pants of anyone who will give her the time of day, freely admitting to herself, Gare, and the UNIT psych she's assigned to this month that she's doing it just as much because it feels good as because it lets her run away from her feelings. She'll never admit to any of them that she also does it because she can feel her soulmate try not to let it affect them, and she likes how that feels, too.)

He's in training, laughing as he watched Samson kick Mason's ass because the dumbass won't punch a girl back when his heart hurts, literally. It takes half a second too long for him to realize it isn't his pain, and he can feel all the blood rush out of his face as he stumbles back a half step. Mason is next to him in seconds checking in on him, and Randall can't find the words to explain the terror he's feeling. His friends get him drunk and bundle him into bed.

There is nothing that compares to the relief he felt to waking up to a dull pain and a generally grumpy feeling the next morning.

(She has a SCADs heart attack and wakes up in the medbay to find out she's been taken off the field indefinitely. The only thing that keeps her from taking it out on the surrounding populace is the way Gare sneaks a extra strength sweet tea into the medbay and the relief that comes across the bond in waves.)

He tries to ignore Samantha East (because that's Her name, she's Mulroy's techie now, and Randall will _never_ admit how his heart lit up when he heard the pair deny being soulmates) because she's...so _much_. There's a Valentine's letter exchange, and he gets drunk and writes her an essay, and wakes up a hangover that is _immediately_ replaced with the crushing fear that East can _definitely_ find out who he is from that letter, she's the best techie UNIT has, and he hides from her for a solid week before he can convince himself that if she'd gotten it, he would be dead by now. 

It's at about that point that Randall Brute admits to himself that his thing for Samantha East might be a little more than a passing crush.

The problem with _that_ being, he doesn't _actually_ know her. Everything he...well, _loves_ about her are things he can't honestly say are based in fact. 

So he keeps his distance, and admires from afar, and he patiently ignore the times when he locks himself in the bathrooms (read: the only private place in the dorms) and lets himself imagine that _she_ is his soulmate.

(Sam would have assumed her soulmate was practically sexless were it not for the, uh... _intense_ exceptions. Her self control is _a_ _mazing_ , if she did say so herself, and it got her through quite a few of those _exceptions_ with a minimum of awkwardness.

(She joined in, a couple times. If she spent most sexual encounters after that chasing that high, well. She was the only one who'd ever know.)

It's all well and good, until he's in his late 30s and Mulroy asks for Fold assistance on a job in Serbia, and Randall accepts for him and Mason before he can think about it.

He reasons around his nerves as he packs his go bag, reassuring himself that he'll shoot his shot, and at best she'll find him amusing and he can say he tried.

But him and Mason go for a snack run while East is finishing setting up her computer, and something possesses him to grab the Haagen Daz she requested and Mason got for her, and he hands it to her with a wink, and something _shifts_.

They banter easily, not even getting all the way through the briefing before it turns into outright flirting. Mulroy goes to bed and East doubles down, and Randall isn't entirely sure how he ends up with her pulling him out of the safe house by the collar, but he's _really_ not complaining.

They go for dinner, and there's chemistry, and he's letting himself get distracted by the low lights and the wine from not only how bad an idea this is, but how dead Mulroy might kill him for taking his sister out on a date. Happily for him, he doesn't have to for long before-

"Me? Oh I'm an open book. Why do you think I front the brutes? Even Mason has a better poker face than me. Ask me anything."

It probably should have been more worrying than it was when she smirked and leaned in across the table, but he wasn't paid to be smart, and anyway-

"Given permission, Agent Brute, what would you do to me?"

-It wasn't like there was a lot of blood in his brain for self-preservation instincts at the time.

They make it out of the restaurant, and she's being Distracting, and he just-kisses her, and she kissed him back, and he's perfectly happy to forget the rest of the world exists before almost 30 years of UNIT training kick in. 

He pumps the brakes, waiting for her to get offended or storm off, but she doesn't, reassuring him that she isn't interested in going any farther than he's interested in, and there is something Randall had kept buried in the back of his mind for _years_ that lights up. He studiously ignores as the flames start to burn away all his inhibitions...even as he gets laid on the first date for the first time in his entire life.

She left claw marks in his back, he bit her shoulder bloody, and the hotel room charges for the multiple holes they left in the walls are going to be astronomical, but by the time they wake up the next morning, Randall Brute, for the first time in his entire life, is considering giving up all of his responsibilities for the ball of warmth curled up into his chest.

(Sam isn't thinking about how she is already referring to him as _Hers_ in her head, because that would be weird and creepy. She follows him back to his apartment for the weekend after the job for... _extracurricular_ _activities_ , such as pillow forts and other fun uses for 60ft of silk rope, and goes home pleasantly worn out for the first time in actual years. 

(She does _not_ have a breakdown when she tries to have a nice, normal threesome and it's not right because it's not _him_.)

His life isn't going to fall apart because his childhood crush knows he exists now, he thinks as he texts her to hook up _just one last time_ , knowing it won't be as his inhibitions concerning one Sam East turn to ash.

(Sam East isn't going to fall for some goody two shoes Paladin with a heart of gold, she thinks as she starts looking forward to spending time with him as a friend as much as she does the sex.)

 _Fuck_ , they both think. _We're not soulmates, are we?_


	8. Chapter 8

For a guy as big as he was, 6'8 and 300+ pounds of muscle, Randall be pretty quiet. He got the impression it was amongst the reasons Mulroy liked him. He assumed, at least, the foot height difference made reading him...difficult. 

He was perfectly happy to silently walk through the training gyms with Mulroy, noting trainees as he went and carefully ignoring the way the other man looked almost nostalgic. He'd just retired, Randall could give the man some time to walk through the halls for the first time since he was fully fledged agent undisturbed.

"You got some fuckin' mouth on you, don't you, bitch?"

Oh, no.

"Oh, baby, you'd never be blessed with how good my mouth could be, I don't fuck pedofiles."

Oh, _no_.

He shared a glance with Mulroy and they both moved towards Sam's voice, the icy edge under the bravado as the gym went silent was never a good sign for anyone involved.

Sam stood between 3 transfer tactical agents- ex-SEALS, good fighters if a little rough around the edges- and a trainee, a young woman named... Jackson, who was standing at ease, the tension in her spine invisible to someone without UNIT training. Sam was all loose bravado, her tablet balanced on her hip in a way that would have looked non-threatening to people who hadn't fought her.

"What the fuck're you talking about?"

"She's 16, dumbfuck, and even if she _was_ legal, she also told you to fuck off _extremely_ politely, multiple times." The leader of the trio sneered down at her. 

"She started it."

"What, by being female in a gym? That kinda thinking won't get you far around here, kiddo."

"And what are you gonna do about it, _kiddo_?" He smirked, posturing, his friends moving up to flank him. "You're just a techie."

Randall didn't notice himself start to move forward until Mulroy caught his arm and shook his head.

"Still not a pedofile, so doing a lot better than you." She cracked her neck, and moved to take a step forward.

"Sam." Randall almost jumped when Mulroy spoke, and the SEALs did, but Sam just stopped and sighed.

"Sorry, boys, I have better things to do." She turned and moved back towards them and Randall felt himself start to relax-

"You always come when Daddy calls, bitch?"

"Like you'd be anything without Mulroy to keep you in line."

Something in Sam's demeanor shifted, but she kept walking towards her brother. The SEALs, dangerously oblivious, turned their back to the very obvious threat, seeming not to notice how every single trainee backed away, the more aware transfer following their lead. 

Mulroy caught Sam's tablet, Randall just catching the lightly feral edge in her eye as she turned hard on her heel and moved, her steps almost silent.

He _really_ shouldn't find that hot.

The first one went down with a crack as her boot made contact with the back of his knee, the big guy going down like a ton of bricks. The big one stumbled forward with a yelp as an elbow connected with his spine, the third barely managing to turn to meet her. Sam deflected the panicked blow easily and came up hard and fast, her head connecting with his nose with a uncomfortable crunching noise. 

The biggest- Fallow, that was his name- wheeled around, grunting with pain and anger, obviously still under the extreme misapprehension that he could win this fight. It was a shame he thought it was going to be a fair fight. 

It didn't help that, with his backup out of the way, Sam started playing with her food. She feigned to the side and tricked him forward, catching a slap on the ass for his trouble. There was a laugh from the watching trainees, and Fallow seemed to only get angrier, Sam's already feral grin getting wider. He'd charge her and she'd flip over his back, landing with a giggle. He'd swing wildly and she'd deflect easily. Her laughing in his face didn't help his composure any, and Randall idly considered how he'd made it this far in training if he couldn't take being laughed at by a girl.

They separated and he was gasping for breath, Sam barely looking winded as she stretched lazily.

"You f- _fucking whore_ , how fucking _dare_ you-"

"Agents." 

Margot's voice wasn't loud, but it didn't need to be. The trainees all snapped to attention, the smarter transfers following suit, as the older woman's heels clicked across the floor, till she was even with Randall and Mulroy.

"Margot, she-

"Director, East was only-" Both Randall and Mulroy fell silent as the director put her hand up, her eyes on Sam, who lazily turned her back on the enraged transfer.

"Ma'am, have I told you how radiant you are when you're angry recently?"

"Too recently, East. Did you finish the project I asked you for?"

"Of course, ma'am, I can't leave my best girl hanging."

Randall must be going insane, because that couldn't have been the hint of a _smile_ on Margot's face. It _couldn't_.

"Then please finish up whatever this is, East, you're taking me to lunch and I simply cannot be late." 

"Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am." Sam's smile was blinding, and Randall wasn't in the least bit ashamed of the way his knees went weak when she shot him a wink.

Fallow was clearly using his rage to bring him together, letting out a scream of rage as he charged at her. She side stepped with a sigh, catching his arm and using his momentum to twist it behind his back. He didn't, couldn't stop fast enough, and his shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop.

He collapsed to the ground with a choked cry, and Sam tsked.

"Jackson, bring that climbing rope, would you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam dropped Fallow's arm and picked up his leg, holding it up for Jackson to secure the rope around.

"Alright, raise him up." 

The trainees moved together, taking the other end of the rope from where it was secured against the wall and pulling till Sam signaled to stop.

"Kiddos, what are we without our techies?"

"Blind, deaf and dumb, ma'am."

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

"BLIND, DEAF, AND DUMB, MA'AM." The answering cry made the gym rumble, and Sam grinned, gesturing at the whimpering man swinging slowly behind her.

"This dumbass' last act at UNIT will be as a pinata. Hit him until he pops, then take him and little friends to medical. Understood?"

There was a general air of blood thirsty glee, and Sam pat Jackson's shoulder reassuringly as the girl smiled gratefully. 

She trotted up to the watching party extremely self satisfied, and took the tablet Mulroy offered with a nod as she grinned up at Randall.

'Whatcha think, Agent Brute? Was that what you meant when you said you thought I should be nicer to the newbies?"

"Not exactly, but I'll take it."

"As long as you're happy, puppy. Ma'am?" She crooked an arm and Margot delicately laced her arm through it, the two women leaving the gym. "Theres this great Italian place nearby..."

Randall looked down at Mulroy, who watched his sister leave with a vaguely amused expression. He looked up, and smirked.

"You were worried about her, huh?"

"I wasn't-"

"So was I. But Sam can handle herself. There was a reason I suggested her as my replacement." Mulroy's smile became more genuine as he nudged against Randall's arm. "Good to know someone'll have her back now that I won't be around as much."

"Always." It was too quick, too definite, but Mulroy only nodded to himself and glanced back at the now swinging exTransfer. 

"I think we have some where else to be. There's obviously nothing here to concern us."

"I think Sam has some of the Alpha 1 whiskey in her office."

"Sounds like a plan."


	10. Chapter 10

When Teresa Sampson joined the Fold at 22, Randall Brute had just become Fold Lead. 

He was nice, comparatively, supportive in a older brother kind of way. He seemed slightly apart from the rest of them, except for Carver, but they were attached at the hip, so it didn’t really count.

There were 5 moments that out of context made next to no sense, but years later, came together into a really interesting puzzle.   
  


-

The first time was after the last Secret Admirer exchange, and Brute had been acting like there was a bounty on his ass (there wasn’t, she checked), ducking out of rooms suddenly and spending forever in the showers. It didn’t take a genius to realize it was whenever Alpha 12 entered the room. Specifically, Alpha 12’s Technical Agent. 

To his credit, Brute didn’t scream like a girl when she bust into the men’s changing room and cornered him in the lockers, but he did readjust the towel around his waist as his eyebrow went up at her.

“Is there something you want, Sampson?”

“Why are you acting like East is going to kill you? I’m not even sure she knows you exist.” She didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched slightly at that, but it was there and gone and she just filed it away for later.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lying isn’t your string suit, sir. All I’m saying is that you’re acting like a mark, and if you don’t get that shit under wraps, I won’t be the only one who notices.” Brute huffed out a sigh.

“The guys got me drunk and convinced me to write a Secret Admirer letter.” She blinked as her eyebrow went up. East didn’t seem like Brute’s type; openly disdainful of the rules, bright blue hair, flirts with anything with a pulse and fucks anything that’s interested. Then again, there was something about complete opposites that could appeal.

“What, you’re scared she’s going to come for you? I was at 12’s annual burning, Howard was handing out bags of shredded love letter for people to fling like confetti. I sincerely doubt she even got it.” She didn’t mention the one letter East had pulled out of the pile and had been reading, plain with handwriting that looked suspiciously like Brute’s; she didn’t think it would help. His expression was mostly relieved, if a little sad around the edges. 

“Yeah, I’m probably fine, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sampson?”

“Sir?”

“Get the fuck out of the locker room.”

-

The second was years later, and Brute had finally grown up, gotten over his thing about her, and finally made friends with East. His eyes tracked her across the room with a bit too much interest occasionally, but Sampson didn’t bring it up; your first real crush didn’t really ever go away, and Brute was adult enough not to make it East’s problem. 

It was Brute’s Christmas party, and Alpha 6 was there, Mulroy’s kids running around in circles with Carver and Hendricks. East and Howard were shamelessly flirting with each other, a casual arm wrapped around her waist as they both sipped the mulled wine. 

She wasn’t paying attention when it happened, she and Fuller had been showing the middle girl, Olivia, how to use a butterfly knife, when there was a shriek of laughter as Howard swept East off her feet.

“And this is why we can’t have nice things-“

“Holy shit, Alfie, put me down-“

Howard carried her past and up to where Brute and the Mulroys were talking in the kitchen, handing East off to Brute. Sampson didn’t miss how Brute cheeks went a light pink when East, giggling tipsily, leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders instead. 

“I am passing the buck, you get to babysit her now.”

“I’m- why?”

“Alfie apparently doesn’t like when I-“

“Not one more word out of you, Sammy Dearest, you’re his problem now.” East turned to Brute and her smile went wide and evil as she bit her lip, eyeing him.

“Oh, am I?” Brute’s cheeks when slightly darker, even as his arms tightened slightly around East.

“Do I get a say in this?” 

“No.” Both adult Mulroys, Howard, and Saints, who’d been having a debate with Selman about something, all answered at the same time, and East giggled harder, snuggling into his side. 

Even after Brute put her down, whenever East got distracted and attempted to leave his side, she was pulled short with a yelp from the fingers he had laced through her belt loops, causing her to grumble slightly as she ducked back under his arm. Mulroy’s kids took it in stride, all three of them looking like this was normal.

“Why is East on a leash?”

“Because Aunt Sam has this thing where she drunk codes, and takes things apart and puts them back together again, but like,” Carmen considered her words, “Better, I guess?”

“Like Iron Man! She’s totally Iron Man.” Peter bounced slightly as Olivia patted his hair.

“But she gets mad because when she gets sober, she has no idea what she was doing or how she does it, so if she’s going to drink she has to be supervised and distracted so she doesn’t do it.”

“And Brute has been, what? Added to the list of approved babysitters?”

“I mean, he’s pretty much the only person here who could physically stop Aunt Sam if she actually tried, so she doesn’t, and I think Uncle Alfie needed a break.”

“Yes, I did.” Alfie wandered by, shamelessly digging into a plate of food the size of his torso. “She’s clingy, and he could use a hug.”

He was right, Sampson mused as she watched East cuddle into Brute’s side on the couch, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he idly fidgeted with one of her curls. Maybe they could balance each other out.

-

Third was a hostage situation.

Jackson was supposed to be showing off his leading skills from the safe house, taking the information East fed him and using it to direct Alpha 23 on a successful mission. It had gone wrong when the safe house had been compromised and Jackson had bounced, leaving East alone and undefended. Unsurprisingly, she’d been taken hostage, and Jackson was cowering slightly in the corner while Mulroy fumed about letting people borrow his techie. Brute was all business, the two there to negotiate for UNIT’s best techie and make sure no one got murdered who didn’t have to.

The call came in through East’s computer, and the screen opened to East zip tied to a chair, bruised and bloody, surrounded by security as a greasy looking man stood slightly in front of her. She concentrated on East and the security, letting Brute focus on the target.

“Evening. You seem to have one of my techies.” 

“I do indeed, and I would be willing to bring her back in exchange for time with another one of your agents, one I am a personal fan of.”

“Well, sir, if you could let us know who you’d like to talk to, I’m sure that could be arranged.”

“Excellent. I would like to speak to the agent with the code name Cardinal.” Sampson watched as Sam froze and looked up, her cowering techie act gone as she started at her captor. “His code is exquisite, the finest I’ve ever seen, and there was traces of it on her computer. This female is obviously important to him, and as such I will trade her for his time and consultation.”

Brute and Mulroy looked at each other, and then to East, whose knuckles went white on the arms of the chair. 

“I’m, uh. Sorry, sir, but that won’t be possible?”

“And why not? It seems perfectly reasonable to me.”

East’s foot came up and braced on the seat of the chair she was sitting in and she yanked up, the arm coming free as she stood. The guards didn’t have a chance, bless them, the first taking the nails of the arm rest straight to the neck and the second taking a chair to the face, the wood splintering and leaving East with a jagged plank. She turned, faster than her captor had been able to do more that flinch at the noise and shoved the sharp wood into his side, following him down.

“Because that’s me, you misogynistic dipshit.” She twisted the makeshift shank and he whimpered. “And this is why you never meet your heros.” There was a noise outside the room and East looked towards the door. “How fast can y’all get here?”

Brute looked over to Mitchell, who didn’t bother to look up from her computer. “15 minutes, most direct route.”

“Perfect. I’ll hold them off.” Brute rapped Sampson and Mulroy on the shoulders, walking them back towards the assembling van on rescuers and East pulled the still whimpering asshole up by his hair and put him in between her and the door.

The ride was silent and tense, which Sampson had expected from Mulroy. Not from Brute, though. Not that Brute took stuff like this lightly, but normally he tried to lighten the mood on rescue missions. On this one, he checked his weapons for the third time, watching Mulroy distractedly as the smaller man flared daggers at the wall of the van. 

“We’re going to get her back. She’s gonna be fine.”

“Yes, thank you, I-“ Mulroy snapped at Brute, and then stopped himself with a sigh. “Yes. I know. But she’s not supposed to be out there.”

“I know. But she’ll be fine.”

There was a conversation happening, behind the vague comforting bullshit, that Sampson was missing. She wasn’t in the mood to decipher their cryptic bullshit.

The infiltration was relatively easy, mostly taking out men too distracted trying to run away to properly realize who they were running towards. They turned down a hallway and turned at the sound of a man yell for help, and a guard ran out of a room only to get shot, slumping to the ground in the hallway.

East leveled the gun on them as the entered the room, the whimpering dumbass pressed against her front like a shield, but she dropped both as they entered, teetering slightly. She had a number of new cuts and scrapes, as well as something that looked an awful lot like a gunshot wound.

What Sampson hadn’t been expecting was Mulroy and Brute to nod at each other, Mulroy going to restrain the would-be captor and Brute stowing his gun to support East. Sampson cleared the room, registering Mulroy’s brisk and blunt orders for the man to be taken away as Brute gently lowered East to the ground, murmuring soothing nothings as he checked her out.

Brute was a lot more gentle that people realized, but he was even more careful than that, holding East like she might shatter if he breathed too hard. Sampson carefully didn’t notice. 

-

Fourth was during training, East newly minted lead to Alpha 1 and doing pretty damn well for the first techie team lead. She and Brute worked well together, and they did so with increasing regularity now that East’s former pet Fold had retired.

East had been spending a lot of time in the Fold Barracks, even though you were technically only supposed to be able to get in there with a unhackable retinal scan, but Brute didn’t seem to mind, even as half the squad started interrogating her yet again on who his girlfriend was.

Sampson didn’t understand it. East was the head of Alpha 1 for a reason, and had been at UNIT for longer that some of these kids had been alive; she wasn’t going to break just because they were persistently annoying.

“C’mon, one hint.”

“I’ve given you plenty of hints, bud, aren’t you supposed to be one of UNIT’s best agents? I’m not gonna fucking spoon feed it to you.”Brute snorted out a laugh and handed East a Monster as he walked by, and she feigned a swoon. “Also, your boss bribes me better than you do. Get good, scrublet.”

“What about your partner, East?” She looked over at Fuller with a raised eyebrow, opening the can with a crack and sipping it delicately.

“What about em?”

“You’re dating a civilian, right?”

“Yeah? I would hope that you dumbasses would at least be able to tell if I was dating a coworker.”

“Why?” East paused, considering her can.

“He likes my smile.” Sampson saw Brute freeze for half a second too long, and kind of felt bad for him. She kind of assumed he’d gotten over East after realizing she’d only ever really dated girl; hearing that her SO was definitely a guy must suck, at least a little.

“...what?” East huffed out a laugh.

“What is Sam short for, Fuller?”

“Samantha?”

“What’s my favorite color?”

“Red?”

“What do I prefer doing on my days off?”

“I dunno, computer shit?”

“And what is my most attractive characteristic?”

“Is this a trick?”

“No, dumbass, just answer the question.”

“I dunno, your tits?”

“Not one of those answers was correct and the last one was superficial as hell. My guy is really sweet and smart and funny, and I like him a really disgusting amount, but...” she sighed, carding her fingers through her hair, her Evenstar necklace catching the light. “He likes my smile. He likes my real smile, and did for a while before I got to know him, and the way he talks about it...” she sighed, grinning idly. “He’s dating me, not the head of Alpha 1. It’s nice.”

“Gross.” East stuck her tongue out at Brute, who sipped his coffee, amused. 

“Suck a dick, Brute, I gotta hear about Canada girl and how she makes you pie.”

“And cookies. Really good cookies.”

“Yeah, and it’s not even a euphemism.”

“Yeah, but how does a civilian keep up with you, East?” Brennerman smirked, man spreading across his chair. “From personal experience you take, uh... stamina to keep up with.”

“It was personal experience cause you couldn’t, kiddo.” East sipped her Monster as Brennerman froze, the color draining out of his face. “What, mad that a civilian can fuck me against a wall multiple times a day and you lasted maybe 5 minutes in missionary?” Brennerman sputtered as she leaned back in her chair, redirecting her smirk to Brute, who had his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, Not Laughing. “I win. You owe me dinner.”

“Dammit, Brennerman, now I have to cook.”

-

Fifth was after a bad job.

Brute had saved them all. He had, there was no doubt about it, but he had also taken multiple bullets before he dived off a 5th story balcony with a bomb into a pool. The fact that he survived transport back to head quarters was a goddamn miracle, all the Fold agents in the waiting room for Medical’s icu like worried ducklings.

It didn’t surprise her, or any of them, really, nearly as much as it probably should have when East came storming in demanding to know what had happened to Brute. The nurse in the waiting room looked annoyed.

“Agent, only his registered medical contact is allowed to have that infor-“

“I am his registered medical contact, what happened?”

The nurse blinked in surprise at East’s neat growl, recovering just enough to ask for id and disappear with it back into the restricted section. He came back suitably cowed as he handed it to her, Fold forming up behind her as he ran through the agent’s injuries. Gunshot wounds, embedded shrapnel, a handful of hairline fractures, broken ribs- Brute was going to be in surgery for a while, but so far it was going well.

“They’re actually planning on contacting you, Agent East. It says on Agent Brute’s chart that opioid painkillers are to be a very last resort, but without them, Agent Brute is going to be in mind numbing amounts of pain. If he pulls through in surgery, he’s going to need rest, and lots of it, and there isn’t any guarantee that he’ll get it without them.”

East closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, looking up to where Carver stood next to her, his frown deep and unhappy as he crossed his arms tightly.

“He’s no’ gonna like it.” His accent was strong with anger, and East nodded.

“He’s not. But if anything happens, we’ll be here, right?”

“Of course.” Carver sounded slightly offended, but offered up a small smile when East nudged up against him.

“Then I think we can handle him being grumpy.” She nodded at the nurse. “Do it. Do you have my number?”

“Yes, Agent East.”

“Contact me if there are any updates. Fold, with me.”

Something in the back of Sampson’s mind insisted that she should have a problem with the way they all fell in behind East, unquestioning as she lead them away from their Lead. But it felt right.

It makes sense to go with Mom if something happened to Dad.

She contemplated that thought as East lead them into the Fold lounge and started setting up for DnD. Most of them fell into old, comfortable rhythms; Carver set up the map and placed down everyone’s minis, Fuller disappeared into her phone to order a ridiculous amount of Chinese food, while Selman handed out character sheets. Hendricks fidgeted with theirs.

“Shouldn’t we be waiting there? For him? What if-“ East came around the table and hugged them, and after a long second Hendricks hugged her back.

“I will be getting live updates on him, whether or not they remember to send them to me. And he wouldn’t want us to miss game, would he?” She leaned back to grin down at them. “C’mon, this is the one chance you get to not feel guilty cause a paladin’s watching, take advantage of it before he gets back.”

Hendricks huffed out a laughed and nodded, ducking their head down over their sheet as they Did Not Cry.

And game commensed.

Hours later, the party was having an impassioned debate about whether or not they were keeping the baby owlbear when Sam put her hand up as she picked up her phone, the room immediately falling silent.

“Hello?” She listened for a long moment before closing her eyes with relief, tension easing out of the room almost immediately. “Alright, thank you. Yeah. Bye.” She took a deep breath and opened her eyes again, not even bothering to pretend she wasn’t crying. “He’s fine. He pulled through. They’ve already taken him off the ventilator.”

They cleaned up the room quickly and efficiently, and by unspoken agreement East, Carver, and Sampson went back, the others retreating to the on base beds to catch some sleep.

There was a lot of commotion when they got there, the nurse from earlier running up.

“Agent Brute woke up and is reacting badly to being sedated, they’re trying to restrain him but-“

“Where is he?”

He lead them down the halls towards the yelling, East easily keeping pace with him.

There were multiple nurses trying to hold Brute down, with little to no success. He pushed them off, movements sluggish and clumsy with the drugs, and reached for the iv, yelping when a doctor pulled herself off the floor and grabbed his arm, her feet leaving the floor as her weight did next to nothing to stop him.

“Randall.” Brute froze and looked up, blinking as he slowly focused on East, his face slowing breaking into a doofy grin.

“Sam!” He tried to wave and got distracted by the doctor hanging off his arm. “Oh, hello.”

East huffed out a laugh as she moved into the room, gently pulling the Doctor away and sitting on the edge of the bed. She giggled as he reached out and pulled her into his side, cuddling close.

“Hey there, hot stuff, how you doing?”

“I’mmmmm...fuzzy.” He blinked back down at the Iv and went to pull it out again, stopping when he realized it would mean he had to stop holding East, and pouting. “I don’t wike it.” Sampson heard Carver let out a snort of laughter and elbowed him in the ribs. The staff carefully backed away, sensing that he’d actually listen to her.

“I know, baby, but you gotta.”

“But I don’t wike it, Sam, it’s not- good. It’s bad.” She caught his face in her hand, leaning their foreheads together and holding his attention.

“I know, baby, but with it you’ll be out of here so much faster. And you gotta be out of here fast, you missed game, we gotta catch you up.” He blinked and nodded, slowly, leaning into her.

“Mmkay. You’re staying here.”

“I am?” She squeaked as he wrapped an arm more tightly around her, pulling her in like a teddybear. “I am. How silly of me to question.”

He nodded extremely seriously, looking for all the world like a very large 4 year old, and buried his face in her hair. East glances back at the door and nodded at the two of them, Sampson and Carver nodding as they retreated back.

They walked the halls back to the Fold barracks quietly.

“East is Brute’s new emotional support human?” Carver nodded, watching her carefully.

“Looks like.”

“Good. He needs one.”

-

Sampson is wearing a suit in the middle of the woods somewhere in fuck nowhere British Columbia. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and it’s all scarily perfect and Brute and East get married.

It makes sense in retrospect, she mused as Brute looks at his wife like she hung the moon and East- well, Brute pulls him down by his collar to kiss him, all to thunderous applause.

The two of them look something out of a fairy tale, and they seem to be reveling in the ability to be together. The party goes on for hours and if they aren’t touching, they’re in clear view of each other.

It’s gross how in love they are, really. But it’s also really, really cute.

Carver walked up to where she’s watching, handing her a finger of scotch.

“I didn’t lie.”

“You didn’t.”

There was a pause as they both sipped their drinks, watching Randall catch Sam around the waist and twirl her through the air to her giggles, only cutting off as she leaned in to kiss him.

“I’m the best man.”

“Keep telling yourself thst, Carver.”

“You wanna fuckin go, Sampson?”

“East said we had to be shirtless and there had to be mud involved. You wanna fuckin loose?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1

The Fold ready room was supposed to be off limits to any non-Fold UNIT personnel, even members of the Board, so Sam was slightly surprised that none of them commented when she started letting herself in, given she was merely the head of Alpha 1. It probably had everything to do with the fact that Randall didn’t comment, and they followed their Lead with impressive amounts of loyalty.

It was the actual cutest.

It was a mostly normal day, Sam hiding in the Fold lounge because no one could stalk her for paperwork there, when Randall walked in, fidgeting with an envelope as he settled into the chair next to hers. A quick glance around the room confirmed his ducklings were all attempting to “subtly” glance at him, their only saving grace that he didn’t do the whole  _ social cues _ thing. Sam’s eyes met Garren’s, her brother raising an eyebrow at her before hiding behind his newspaper, and she rolled her eyes before nudging her fiance with her foot, causing Randall to jump.

“Hey, you alive?”

“Wh- sorry, yeah, no, I’m fine-”

“If I’m not allowed to say it,” Sam cut him off, unable to control the smirk as she pointed at him, accusatory, “Then you’re not, either.” She watched,victorious, as he pushed his tongue along the inside of his cheek, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“I got invited to my ex’s wedding.” Sam’s eyebrow went up as the rest of the room Totally Didn’t Listen In.

“Okay. And why does that have you all anxious?”

“Um. Well. We didn’t break up on the best of terms? But her mom and grandmother liked me a lot, and called to make sure I’d gotten it and I don’t- I felt bad. Turning them down.” He looked like  _ such _ a kicked puppy, and Sam had to fight not to melt at that, instead huffing out a laugh.

“Only you, Brute. You need backup?” He perked up  _ immediately _ .

“Yes? Please? I don’t want to go alone, and I don’t want to subject my girlfriend to...awkwardness.” She snorted out a laugh, and he grinned back, looking more relaxed by the moment, both ignoring the incredibly loud way Garren was rolling his eyes at them. She held out a hand, and Randall blinked at her.

“Invitation, please, I need to figure out if I’m going as your girl friend or as your girlfriend.” He blinked, glanced at the rest of the room like he just noticed them Totally Not Paying Attention, and went pink as he handed it over.

“Gabrielle Dulacey and-” She squinted at the ornate invitation. “Jesus, is the groom even invited to this thing?” Fowler and Sampson leaned in over Sam’s shoulders, giving up all pretense of not listening in, and she handed the piece of paper up to the other women as she opened up a new window on her computer.

“He gets a sympathy invite, it’s  _ her day _ , of course.” Fowler sniffed her distaste, and then actually sniffed the thick piece of paper. “There’s perfume on this.”

“Is it the scent of moonlight, jasmine, and tuberose?”

“If moonlight smells slightly stale, then yes, why?”

“Because it’s her favorite perfume.” Sam tilted the screen back a bit and pointed at a bottle that showed up in half of the pictures of the shown Instagram page. “You didn’t say she was a model, Brute.”

“I didn’t know if she still was, I didn’t want to assume.” 

“Not all of us just hook models like it’s easy, Brute.” Brennerman huffed, curling farther into his seat. “Some of us didn’t just  _ happen _ to win the genetic lottery.”

“It’s not really something I take into account when I start talking to someone, man. Anyway-” Sam winced, hissing at the screen of her laptop, and Randall’s head snapped over. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Sam was really hoping she wasn’t going to have to be the one to have this conversation with him, but Fowler had recoiled from the laptop and Sampson had leaned closer, both reading the screen in abject horror, and she sighed.

“Randall, question; did you, by any chance, break up with her?”

“I’m, uh. No? I had just come home from a job with a gunshot wound and she wanted me to go to some red carpet event with her the second I got back, and I told her I wouldn’t be able to. I got home and she was waiting for me at my apartment, and she said she was there to wait for me to get ready so we could go, and I told her I wasn’t going, again, and she got angry with me and went on this rant about how we never did anything she wanted to do and how she didn’t want to hear from me again until I was ready to apologize, but until then she was going to consider herself single, and I just. Didn’t ever call her back.” Sam winced again, and the two women behind her hissed sympathetically. “Wait, why, what’s wrong?”

“Boss, I hate to break it to you,” Fowler fidgeted with the invitation, “But I think that as far as she’s concerned, you broke up with her, cause she’s a  _ very special _ brand of crazy.”

“Now, hold on-”

“Randall, I appreciate that you’re going to try to defend her, I really do,” Sam turned her laptop around, handing it to him, “But she has a finsta where her profile picture is the two of you, which is fairly obvious even if she did cut off the tops of your heads so you’re both less recognizable, and her last three posts are  _ also _ about how you’re the one who got away and how she wishes she was marrying you instead, without names of course.”

“What in the fresh hell,” Sam looked over as Garren finally gave up on trying to read his newspaper, “is a  _ finsta _ .”

“Secret second Instagram account where you post things you’d get in trouble for or would at least be annoying on your main account. Most people have fan accounts or talk shit about classmates and coworkers. Ms Dulacey seems to use hers to talk about how much her life sucks and how it’s everyone’s fault but her own.”

“Charming.”

“Isn’t it  _ just _ .” She turned as Randall handed her laptop back to her, pushing his hair back out of his face with a sigh. “Sorry bout it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You know you can just... _ not go _ , right?”

“I know, I just-” He sighed. “I told her grandma I would come, and I’d feel guilty if I just dropped out.” He turned his puppy dog eyes back onto her, and Sam fought the urge to coo. “She said she’d give me the family shortbread recipe.”

Damn this man. Damn this man and his adorable brown eyes and his fucking  _ morals _ .

“So I’ll be going as your girlfriend, then.” She opened a new tab, ignoring the raised eyebrow she could  _ feel _ Garren pointing at her.

“Why his girlfriend?”

“Cause,” Sampson inspected her spoon before sticking it into her chocolate pudding. “If she goes as a girl friend, the crazy will be more likely to decide that she’s competition whose also trying to win Brute over, and will therefore be more likely to try something cringy.”

“But if she goes as his partner,” Fowler leaned against the back of Sam’s chair as she inspected the calligraphy on the invite, “The crazy can’t twist it into some kind of fairy tale bullshit, and it will be much harder for Ms Dulacey to frame it so she’s the good guy, which seems to be  _ very _ important to her.” 

“Is this some inherent girl logic?” Sam glanced up to see Garren looking between the three women, baffled, and huffed out a laugh. “Is this something that happens when you become a girl, you get a textbook on all the intricate social nuances that the rest of us don’t get?”

“Must be,” Hendricks mused from their spot on the aerial silks in the corner of the room, swinging gently from the rafters. “I  _ definitely _ didn’t get one.”

“That’s classified information, Garebear.” She tilted her screen up again, looking at Fowler and Sampson. “This dress with those heels, or that dress with these heels?”

“Ooooh, you can wear  _ actual _ heels with him, can’t you? What about those heels with that dress?”

“You think?”

“Definitely,” Sampson nodded authoritatively over a spoonful of pudding. “if you’re going to be wearing red bottoms to a model’s wedding and looking better than the bride, you need to go all the way without making it look like your trying, y’know?” She returned the spoon to the cup and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Oh, this old thing? I just had it lying around.”

“You make a good Valley Girl, Teresa.”

“Anything for you, East.” The taller woman winked down and Sam giggled, turning back to Randall’s vaguely amused expression.

“I know I asked for backup, East, but I don’t want an actual disruption.”

“Don’t be silly, Brute, I’m going to be on my best behavior, that’s the  _ point. _ You have a suit, right? What color ties- you know what. I’m cashing in that dinner you owe me, I’m inspecting your closet tonight.”

“Oh, are you?”

“You’d be driving me home anyway, just consider it saving you a couple hours of commute in exchange for losing access to your couch for the night, I’m sure you’ll live.”

Randall sighed in mock defeat as Garren opened his paper again, looking for all the world like the old man he spiritually was.

“I’ve found just agreeing with her works better than trying to fight it. She can be very persuasive if she wants to be.”

“Love you too, Gare.”

-

The drive back to Randall’s-  _ their _ apartment, he could turn off work mode- was quiet and calm that night, like it normally was, and he could tell the anxiety was all on him as he drove, occasionally glancing over at Sam.

He followed her up into the apartment and moved into the kitchen to get started on dinner, putting a pot of water on the stove as she attached herself to his side. He turned towards her, gathering her up in his arms and meeting her in a kiss, letting himself melt into it.

“Hi.”

“Hey, hot stuff. How you doin?” 

“You’re here, so, pretty great.” Sam rolled her eyes over a blush, and a small, vicious corner of his brain preened over the face that  _ Sampson _ never made her blush like that.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, puppy, and you know it.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’m- it’s stupid.”

“Hey, no.” She squeezed around his stomach, reaching up to tilt his head back down, smiling slightly as he leaned into her hand. “It’s not stupid. Your body is reacting like that for a reason.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me.” 

“Maybe. 

“No, definitely.”

“Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” He huffed out a sigh, feeling his own cheeks heat up as he had to look away.

“We’re going to a wedding together. As a couple.” There was a long pause, and he looked back to see Sam trying hard not to laugh, and felt his cheeks heat up more. “See, I  _ told _ you it was stupid.”

“No, baby, that’s  _ adorable _ , that’s what that is.” She grinned. “I think it’s really cute that you still get excited about stuff like that, what, 7 years in?”

“Yeah, but like- our coworkers know. So we can, like. Be seen doing coupley shit. And take pictures and stuff.” Her smile widened, and he could feel his grow in response as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Mmmm. This is very true. We practically  _ have _ to take a lot of disgustingly sweet pictures together.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer, nuzzling into the side of her face as she giggled.

“I’ll have to find some way to soldier on.”


End file.
